"You'll be okay, dear."
The words left his mother's trembling lips like a prayer—a fragile hope she clung to with all she had left. But Dominic Hayes knew better. He could see it in her eyes. The tears she blinked away, the forced smile, the way her hands refused to let go of his.
Seventeen years old, and his body was already betraying him. The hospital bed beneath him was too stiff, the air too sterile. The pale white walls around him felt more like a coffin than a place of healing. Machines beeped steadily in the background, each one counting down the seconds like a metronome to the end.
Leukemia. The word sounded like a death sentence the first time he'd heard it. Now, it was just a whisper that haunted every corner of his mind.
"The doctor said he doesn't have much time…"
He'd overheard the nurses. He wasn't supposed to. But at this point, Dominic didn't need anyone to confirm what he already felt in his bones. The pain wasn't just in his body anymore—it had soaked into his soul.
He stared up at the ceiling, his thin fingers clutching the edge of his blanket. His friends had stopped visiting. School was a memory. Playgrounds, laughter, the smell of rain on summer pavement—it all felt like another life. A life that was already slipping away.
Is this it? he wondered. Is this how my story ends?
His eyelids grew heavy. Pain ebbed and flowed like a tide, but exhaustion was winning now. As sleep crept in, he felt himself drifting—not just into dreams, but into something… deeper.
Darkness.
Cold.
Then, water.
Dominic gasped, but no air filled his lungs. He thrashed instinctively, struggling against an unseen current. He was no longer in a hospital bed—he was deep underwater, surrounded by endless blue. Panic surged through him as he sank into the depths, bubbles spiraling upward and away.
What is this? Am I dying?
The pressure crushed against his chest, the water closing in like a coffin. Just as his strength began to fade, a flash of light pierced the gloom. A hand—strong, radiant—reached out through the abyss.
"Come," a voice echoed, powerful and calm, ancient and kind. "You will not die."
The hand grabbed his, pulling him from the depths.
And just like that, everything changed.
Light.
It poured in all at once, searing through the darkness like a sunrise after a long, bitter night. Dominic gasped—not in panic, but in awe—as air filled his lungs again. No longer drowning, no longer weak. He blinked, vision adjusting to the brilliance surrounding him.
He wasn't in the hospital.
He wasn't even human.
The ocean stretched infinitely in every direction, but it was no longer cold. The water was warm, almost alive, pulsing with energy he could feel in his bones. Or… were these bones even his?
Dominic looked down at himself. His frail body was gone. In its place was a powerful, lean figure glowing with a soft, ocean-blue hue. His skin shimmered faintly, and his hands—no longer trembling—were calloused, strong, and unfamiliar. Flowing bands of gold spiraled around his forearms and across his chest like markings etched by the sea itself.
What… am I?
"You are no longer the dying boy," said the voice again. It wasn't coming from outside, but inside—deep in his mind, resonating like a wave hitting the shore. "You are reborn. You are Poseidon."
Dominic turned. Behind him stood a man of impossible stature, wrapped in a cloak of sea foam and bearing eyes like raging storms. He held a trident in one hand and regarded Dominic not with pity, but with reverence.
"I don't understand," Dominic said, but his voice came out deeper, commanding—godlike.
"Your soul was chosen. Plucked from death's grasp at the moment your heart stopped. The world has need of you, Dominic. The sea, long silent, calls once more. And you will answer."
A rush of memories surged through him—not just his own, but ancient echoes: the rise and fall of empires, storms born from rage, sea creatures whispering in the dark. He stumbled, clutching his head, gasping as images flooded him.
"You carry the mantle now," the god continued. "Poseidon's power is yours—but so is his duty. The seas are not at peace. A storm brews. The gods are stirring. You must rise, or the world will drown in chaos."
Dominic looked out at the vast horizon. A school of dolphins leapt in the distance. Coral cities shimmered far below. Somewhere, beneath the beauty, something darker loomed. He felt it—a tension in the current, a shadow waiting in the depths.
He clenched his fists. The pain of his old life had left scars, but this new one offered purpose. Power. A second chance.
"I don't know what I'm doing," he whispered.
"You will learn," said the god. "But know this—your name will no longer be whispered in a hospital room. It will be shouted by the waves. You are not the end, Dominic. You are the beginning."
And with that, the vision faded. The god disappeared like mist on the sea.
Dominic floated alone in the deep, reborn, unsure of the path ahead—only that it had already begun.
Dominic shot upward through the water like a torpedo, instinctively moving with a grace he'd never known. Every flick of his wrist, every shift in current responded to him. He wasn't just in the sea—he was part of it.
But the peace didn't last.
A ripple of darkness surged from below. The water turned murky, heavy. Dominic halted, eyes narrowing. Something was coming.
Something wrong.
A deep growl echoed through the ocean. Then, from the shadows, it emerged—massive, ancient, and furious. A sea serpent, longer than a city block, with eyes like molten obsidian and teeth jagged as coral.
Dominic's breath caught, but his body reacted faster than his thoughts. His arm lifted, and in a flash of blue lightning, a weapon appeared in his grasp—a trident, humming with raw energy. His mind didn't know how to wield it, but his body moved like it had done this a thousand times.
The serpent lunged.
Dominic dodged, spinning low beneath its snapping jaws. He slashed upward, his trident slicing through scales like butter. The beast roared in pain, twisting violently and sending a tidal shock through the water.
A surge of confidence rose in Dominic's chest. I'm not that sick, dying boy anymore.
The serpent coiled, ready to strike again.
Dominic raised the trident high. "Fall."
Lightning cracked from the weapon's tip, ripping through the ocean like thunder underwater. It struck the serpent full force, lighting up the sea like daylight. The creature shrieked, body convulsing before it fled into the depths, defeated but not dead.
Silence returned. Dominic floated there, chest heaving, power thrumming in every nerve.
Then he heard it—a whisper carried on the current. A voice not of the gods, but of warning.
"This was only the first."
Dominic turned slowly. In the far distance, a dark rift had opened on the ocean floor. Twisting black tendrils leaked from it, poisoning the water.
A storm was rising.
And Dominic had just been thrown into its heart.